


A Dream, A Wish

by benicemurphy



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Endgame Sheith, FWB Katt, M/M, Red String of Fate, Soul Bond
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-06
Updated: 2019-04-06
Packaged: 2020-01-05 21:58:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,602
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18374876
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/benicemurphy/pseuds/benicemurphy
Summary: There's a man that Keith can't get out of his head. The problem is, Keith's never met him. He doesn't even know if he exists.





	A Dream, A Wish

The music pulses around them. The air smells like sweat and beer and cologne. The couch he's currently kneeling on is cheap and scratchy, but the body he's straddling is warm and soft and feels good beneath his hands.

Long fingers comb through his even longer hair, having already taken apart his braid, and tug just hard enough to pleasantly sting. He inhales sharply against the other man's lips and dives back in for another drawn-out kiss. The hand not tangled in his hair alternates between caressing his thigh and peeking underneath his t-shirt. His own hands settle on broad shoulders and a slim neck as his lips move to suck a mark right over the pulse point.

They _should_ feel more bashful about full-on making out in the middle of a house party, but the lights are dim, the people are drunk, and no one’s paying them any attention anyway. It feels incredible, like it always does with Matt, but Keith can’t help but wonder how good it might feel with someone he hasn’t been able to get off his mind.

Too bad he’s never met the guy, and who knows if he ever will.

He pulls back to admire his work while lidded golden eyes look up at him.

“Take it easy, kitten,” Matt huffs. “My mom freaked out last time you left a mark like that.”

Keith rolls his eyes. “So don’t show your mom, you dweeb.”

Matt surges up and attaches himself to Keith’s neck, pulling a startled moan from his throat. He pulls back just long enough to smirk up at him and say, “It’s only fair,” before continuing his mission to leave a much larger, much darker bruise.

Keith opens his eyes to survey the party again while Matt is occupied. He doesn’t know what he’s looking for or why he cares; he already has Matt, which is usually the best thing about any party he goes to. He’s about to let his eyes fall shut again and enjoy the feeling of his best friend peppering kisses across his neck when his eyes finally catch on someone — a man —he’s never seen before… at least, not while conscious. He gasps when the man locks eyes with him. It feels like he’s been punched in the gut, and he shoves back to dislodge Matt from his throat.

“Keith, what—”

“It’s him,” he breathes. Matt looks bewildered.

“Who?”

“The guy I’ve been seeing, it’s him!”

Matt reels back and fixes Keith with a horrified stare. “You’re _seeing_ someone? Keith, _what the hell—_ ”

Keith doesn’t bother explaining as he picks himself off of Matt’s lap and makes a bee-line for man staring dumbstruck at him. He has no idea what he’ll say when he gets there, but he knows, with more certainty than he’s had about anything in his life, that he has to be near him. Behind him, Matt is scrambling off of the couch and calling for him to _wait, hold on a second, where are you going, what do you mean you’re seeing someone?!_

He ignores all of it, pushing past loose-limbed party patrons and couples engaged in similar displays to the one Keith and Matt had been putting on. His mind is solely focused on getting to the person whose face he’s seen more times than he can count. He would know him anywhere: bright, white hair, a facial scar across his nose that makes him look like he’s perpetually blushing, and a missing right arm. He’s beautiful — no, he’s _breathtaking_ , and Keith wants to know everything about him.

The man, meanwhile, maintains eye contact and doesn’t move from his spot by the entryway. He looks like he’s been stunned, and by the time Keith reaches him, he’s full-on gaping in a way that makes Keith hope and pray that this man recognizes him, too.

Matt catches up a few seconds later, panting like he’s run a marathon, even though all he really did was cross a crowded living room. He puts a hand on Keith’s shoulder to stabilize himself, doubled over in a way that is entirely too dramatic, and when he finally looks up to see who Keith sprinted for, he looks more confused than ever.

“Oh,” he says casually, “hey Shiro.”

Keith tears his attention from the man in front of him and whirls on Matt. “You know him?” It’s more of a demand than a question.

“Hey, Matt,” Shiro replies, and though he sounds dazed, Keith already loves the sound of his voice; can already tell he wants to fall asleep listening to it and hear it first thing every morning.

“Yeah,” Matt says, “he’s the transfer I told you about. The one that just started in my program.” Keith knows he’s gaping like a largemouth bass, but he also knows there’s no way this is possible. Shiro looks like he’s still trying to round up his brain cells, and Matt is staring between the two of them, noticeably and understandably dumbfounded.

“He… goes here?” Keith finally chokes out after an uncomfortable minute.

Shiro, who finally seems to have located the last few stragglers, turns to Matt as well. “You know him? You’re…” he trails off, looking back and forth between Matt and Keith as if trying to piece together what they are to each other.

…which is fair, Keith suddenly realizes in a stroke of horror, since he walked in on them publicly getting frisky on a couch in the middle of a sucky party.

“We’re not dating!” he blurts. Smooth like butter.

Matt throws his hands up in exasperation. “Would someone _please_ tell me what the fuck is going on?”

Nobody knows how to answer for a few long moments until Shiro shyly turns back to Keith.

“You and Matt aren’t…?”

Keith shakes his head emphatically. “No, not at all. It’s just something we’ve been doing for fun.” Instinctively, he knows Matt is about to say something stupid, so he elbows him as hard as he can in the ribs before he can get the words out.

“Ow, you dick!”

“So…” Shiro trails off, shifting a bit on his feet. “I’ve seen you before.”

“I’ve seen you, too.”

“Great,” Matt grumbles. “We’ve all seen each other. Fucking crazy considering we all go to the same school and hang in the same buildings.”

Shiro hurriedly amends his statement. “No, I mean, I’ve _seen_ you. A lot of times. Before I transferred here.”

Keith knows exactly what he means, and his heart soars. Matt seems to have given up on finding a resolution to his confusion.

“I see you every night,” Keith says. He’s too excited, too full of hope and potential energy to filter himself. “I’ve been seeing you for months. Any time I have a nightmare, you show up and make it better.”

“Me too,” Shiro breathes, and it takes everything in Keith to stop himself from flying apart in ecstasy.

“WAIT,” Matt exclaims as he finally catches up. “You guys have been _dreaming_ about each other? For _months_? _How_?”

“I don’t know,” Shiro says at the same time that Keith shrugs. “But something in me told me that I needed to be here, at this school, and now I finally understand why.”

Keith nods. He feels overwhelmed. His nose tickles the way it does when he’s trying to hold back tears. He wants to reach out and touch the man of his dreams, the person who has saved him over and over again when he was feeling alone, suffering from anxiety dreams night after night, wondering if he’d ever find someone who understands what he’s been going through. Shiro’s face is the picture of elation, and it’s so beautiful and so hopeful that it physically pains Keith in the best possible way. He can’t say anything, so instead he steps toward Shiro, and Shiro mirrors him, like two magnets drawn together.

“What’s your name?” Shiro asks, and Keith almost laughs from how ridiculous it is. It’s obvious that they both know what this is. They belong together; they’re already connected so intimately, have loved each other for months before ever meeting, it seems absurd that he would have to ask Keith’s name. Keith tells him through something that sounds half like a laugh and half like a sob. Shiro seems to understand, because _of course_ he does, and he pulls Keith into the warmest hug Keith has ever had, even with only one arm around him. “Keith,” Shiro says. It nearly makes him shiver. “Call me Takashi.” Keith nods against his chest and commits the name to memory, tattooing it on his heart so that he’ll have it forever.

“Go out with me,” Keith says when he can get the words out. “Go on a date with me.”

Shiro holds him closer. “Yes, of course.”

Keith finally remembers their company and glances at his friend. Matt still looks a bit lost, and now resigned to his new role as a third wheel, but happy. Keith grins at him. He probably looks ridiculous with half of his face smooshed into Shiro’s chest and the other half in a manic grin, but Matt grins back.

“I’m really happy for you, buddy,” he says as he pats Keith solidly on the back. “But when we get home, one of you needs to explain to me what the hell just happened.”

Keith laughs, and Shiro laughs, and Keith can feel it in his whole body where he’s still pressed against him. With his best friend by his side and the literal man of his dreams in his arms, he’s never felt happier.


End file.
